


livor

by skitty_titty



Series: after midnight [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bruises, M/M, warnings in the notes.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitty_titty/pseuds/skitty_titty
Summary: nyx is sent away on a mission. prompto deals with this as he does everything.





	livor

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt, 'bruises'. 
> 
> warnings:   
>  -military life (as in, partners/parents/friends being deployed)  
> -(slight unintelltional) self-harm/overworking

their relationship could be considered as unusual. they don’t talk about it. in the late hours after midnight is when they’re together the most, but they can’t stay together for long when duty calls. training takes up most of prompto’s time, as well as downtime with the prince, as well as another part-time job on the side; nyx has a pretty consistent schedule, though the training hours and meeting schedules are often altered.

sometimes, when the stars align, they manage to go on the occasional date during the day. glaive work pays well, but most of the money is sent to selena, nyx’s sister, because hospital care is _expensive_ . prompto uses the money he gets from being a glave-in-training to pay his rent and utility bills, and the part-time job funds food, new clothes to replace the ones that are falling apart, the occasional film for his camera, and his afternoons spent at the arcade. this being said, their dates are never anything particularly _special_ in the sense of money, but it means a lot to them, even if it’s just a walk to someplace new.

spending time with nyx is probably one of the best things in prompto’s life, and that’s barely an exaggeration. with him, he sleeps better, the bags under his eyes slowly melting away. he looks healthier; less gaunt, the shadows on his face seeming to disappear. the change was so noticeable that his friends noticed, though it was ignis who paid the compliment.

but nyx can’t always be there.

nyx ulric is reckless at best — or worst, depending on how you look at it — kind of way. he’d do anything if it meant that even one single person would live another day. it’s selflessness in a way that so many strive for but few achieve, and this makes it so hard for prompto not to worry.

accompanied by the light of a half moon, which illuminates the room with a gentle glow — due to the lack of closed curtains — the clock shines, dull enough to be gentle on the eyes. it reads 05:12 AM and, by this time, usually they have fallen asleep pressed side to side.

prompto still feels restless, though. today hadn’t been particularly bad during training, but he’d been forced to cancel time with ignis, noctis, and gladio because a co-worker had called to say they couldn’t come in; this resulted in prompto spending six hours behind a grill, covered in sweat and grease, with every muscle in his body aching. usually, he wouldn’t complain for the extra hours but, currently, it just managed to make him miserable.

now agitated, he couldn’t sleep. he feels like he hasn’t finished everything he had set out today and his anxiety is keeping him awake, a steady stream of unrest heavy in his heart. nyx is helpful, but he can’t fix every problem; that isn’t how it works.

eventually, prompto’s near-continuous wriggling had managed to wake nyx up — which is usually a surprisingly hard task — and he sits up, watching prompto carefully. he rubs his eyes, blinking as they refocus to the dark, and prompto stares back up at him. he doesn’t know what to say.

“hey.” nyx starts, though. it’s a little gravelly, as if he’s thirsty, but neither truly mind. “crown for your break down?”

the humour startles a laugh out of prompto. “that’s never going to become a thing, nyx.”

“you like it,” he replies, grinning. it’s weird because it normally takes him years to wake up properly when he has nowhere to be.

“i do.”

“good-” a second of silence, where the sheets rustle as nyx moves to get comfortable, to get closer. prompto’s heartbeat spikes again- “tell me what’s wrong?”

“it’s stupid.” prompto replies, but nyx silences him quickly, by a quick kiss.

“it’s never stupid if it’s upsetting you.”

“it _is_ , though.”

“was it work?” nyx guesses, and prompto nods. “then it’s not stupid. _work_ is stupid.”

“you enjoy ‘glaive work, nyx.” prompto reminds him.

“i know but--” it’s cut off by a deep breath. prompto tears his eyes away from the patch on the wall he’d been staring at, looking down at the man lying over his chest. the atmosphere in the room has turned from relaxed to uptight, a sea of tension that does little for anyone.

“but what?” though questioning, his voice is softer than before, as if he knew there was a line he was toeing. “everything’s okay?”

nyx stills, but unclenches quickly; prompto notices it, regardless. “yes-” it sounds foreign in his mouth- “everything is fine, and you need to stop worrying.”

he’s defensive, prompto notes. “you’re an awful liar, babe. i won’t be angry if that’s what you’re worried about.”

it seems to be the correct thing to say because, while nyx avoids eye contact as he says it, he still shares what’s bothering him. distantly, prompto almost wishes he hadn’t, but he knows that wouldn’t have stopped anything.

“some ‘glaives are being deployed out of insomnia,” he tells him, his voice quiet. with careful eyes, he observes prompto’s reaction, though prompto lets nothing show. he soldiers on. “you know i can’t tell you the details but i _can_ tell you that everything’ll be fine.”

“is the captain going?”

“nope.” nyx replies, and prompto relaxes slightly. “it’s not that dangerous.”

“everything you do is dangerous.”

“by that logic, even living is dangerous.”

“maybe it is with the way you drive.” prompto teases, but there’s still an edge to it. if he pretends that everything is fine then nothing will go wrong. tried and true method. he shifts around and, albeit accidentally, puts more space between himself and nyx. nyx doesn’t look hurt, though, or angry or _anything_ ; he’s sad, but resigned. knowing neither of them can’t do anything to change the orders doesn’t make it easier. prompto’s focusing on nyx’s reassurances that everything will be fine. of course, no one knows these things for certain, but nyx has always had a good judgement.

“how long will you be gone?”

“a week.”

he can handle a week, right?

 

* * *

 

prompto can not, in fact, handle a week. even during the first night, this became abundantly clear.

he had slept well with nyx, the first time they’d met. the bed was comfortable and the room was warm, which was immediately better than any area in prompto’s house, which was drafty at best. wandering through the house, he grabs a snack from the fridge — which would have gone out of date by the time nyx returns anyway — and continues to the bedroom.

rooting through the closet, prompto searches for his favourite jumper: the cool blue one, that’s gentle to touch. most of the clothing nyx owns is scratchy, so this one became the clear choice. it smells of nyx, when he puts it on, but it’s not the same. not physical, nor warm.

he tries to sleep in his bed, too. it’s where he’s been sleeping for the last few weeks; it’s been months, though, now that he thinks about it. months since they’ve met, since they started the arrangement. no, ‘arrangement’ makes it sound so formal, but languid kisses as the sun finally sets is everything but formal. perhaps, he could use ‘union’ but now that he’s considering about it, that sounds like a weird company. here prompto goes again, with the overthinking.

he curls up in the sheets, wrapping himself in some sort of cocoon, which does not comfort him as much as he’d like it to. as he lay there, he knows he’s not going to get a single second of sleep.

the second night is decidedly better, if you look at it from a more productive perspective.

sleeping in the time that he used to train had taken lots of extra practice away but, more importantly, had allowed him to actually focus during lessons, so his skills had improved nonetheless. now, though, he swings back into old routine; rubber pelts bounce off the dummy, most of which hitting the targeted area, as he quickly side steps along the white line.

during their own training, nyx had used to warp at him — creating both a moving target and something prompto had to dodge from —, providing a genuine challenge. he can’t exactly use that to his advantage anymore, so he grows tired with the weapons he fails to improve with because there’s no way to practise the skill.

eventually, he switches to knives. sharp edges and prompto had never particularly mixed well; clumsy isn’t a word he’d use to describe himself, but ‘prone to getting hurt from touching _anything’_ is something he would.

he truly despises working with the small things. they’re difficult to control and require you to get in close with your enemies, and prompto is a ranged fighter. at the moment, he hates everything enough to try them out again.

when he comes out with a few new cuts along his fingers and blossoming bruises on his knees, then no one needs to know.

his days become cyclical. after the old marks fade, new ones soon replace them. spending his nights and mornings at the training grounds becomes the regular once again. it’s on the fourth day in that he lands a roll weirdly and his knee starts to ache — or ache more than it previously was — because that’s all it’d been doing recently.

he struggles to stand, though, and that’s new. limping over to a bench, he sits carefully and manages to roll up his trousers to take a look at it. nothing's bleeding and no bone is visible so, in prompto’s head, everything is fine.

a guard casts him a concerned glance as they buzz him through, but prompto smiles and shrugs it off. he manages to limp back home, arriving a little earlier than normal, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep, not tonight, with how distracted he’s been.

there was no extra shift he had to take, and no friends to hang out with. it was training today, but even that wasn’t particularly strenuous because someone had to take over in the marshal’s stead. prompto thinks the test is tomorrow and he’s prepared as he’ll probably ever be, at this point. he hopes his knee doesn’t mess everything up.

still, he knows he can’t sleep. figuring to use the time to his advantage, he digs through his freezer and thankfully finds an ice pack. wrapping a towel around it is more of an afterthought after he’d already been burnt by the cold. back against the couch, he lies there, passing time on his phone as gentle tunes play. eventually, he falls to sleep. it’s probably been the best night of sleep that he’s gotten since nyx’s departure, which is disappointing because it only managed to come to under three.  

he can’t wait for all this to be over.

 

* * *

 

it’s finally been a week. prompto buzzes with nervous excitement. nyx will be home today, with new stories under his belt and more memories forged between friends. prompto kind of wants to be able to kiss him again, because he feels  _deprived_.

however, the surprise exams that are always sprung on them are being held today, which should take his mind off everything. the marshal announces this when nearly everyone has arrived, and prompto complains under his breath with the rest of them.

“today!?” he hears someone exclaim a few feet away from him.

another trainee groans. “gods, i haven’t prepared.”

prompto shifts on his feet. everyone wants it to be over before it has even begun, but most reasons are different from his own. nyx will be  _home_ today.

all tests are individualised, with five people being tested at once. while the other trainees are allowed to watch, many don’t bother, instead deciding to stretch or discuss tactics between friends. prompto is one of the first to be tested due to it being conducted in alphabetical order, but he doesn’t mind.

as his name is called, a few people offer their apologies for him being sent up as one of the first, as well as their good luck wishes. he thanks them and off he goes.

the test feels like it both lasts forever and is gone in a blink of an eye. it was difficult, running on a few hours of sleep and a bruised body, but he manages. they send him to the changing rooms, once he’s done, to shower, which is a relief. the warm water removes any tensions that hang in his body, and he feels so  _awake_ in a way he hasn’t felt in a while.

he sits back down in the training hall, which was required of all recruits, even after they’d finished. he doesn’t attempt to make conversation with anyone, alternatively managing to get lost in other peoples’ motions. echoes of air’s hiss can be heard as swords and shields cut through the air, the sound loud enough to be caught from across the hall, along with groans of pain and the occasional yelp when someone gets a hit in.

prompto thinks the wait might have killed him. sitting on a bench, back against a brick wall, for five hours isn’t the nicest way to spend your day. at one point, there’d been a lunch break, and most people took the opportunity to stretch, prompto included. the rest of the time was spent staring at a wall, or listening to people talk around him.

after the whole thing’s over, prompto heads home; his body aches from just _sitting_ for the last few hours, and no amount of stretches manage to remove the pain. he sits in his bed and he knows that nyx will find him when he’s home. asking drautos for confidential details would never work, and the man scares him anyway. nyx will have to find him first. nyx will find him.

it’s five in the afternoon, but he drifts off anyway, eyes blurring before finally falling shut as old Romantic songs play off his phone.

 

* * *

 

_damn_ , prompto thinks when he begins to stir again, _it’s dark_.

at first, he thought it was because of the curtains he’d recently managed to afford — that were thick enough to block out any and all light — but they’re hanging free, rustling occasionally when the dying summer’s breeze blows. though he left his window open, it’s still quite warm in his room, which means that it’s also warm enough outside so that it feels nice.

lighting up the room, his phone screen shines as another notification pings on it, the almost-startling chocobo cry immediately bringing prompto to attention.

on the phone, there are a few notifications from games — which he makes a reminder to check in the morning — but the most recent are a few messages from noctis.

 

[04:22 AM] noct → mercury  prom I can’t sleep prom

[04:22 AM] noct → mercury  Can u come over?? I’m @ appt

[04:25 AM] mercury → noct  be there in a jiffy!!!

 

it’s been a while since they’d hung out because of restless nights. noctis is usually so worn out during the day that he passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. nyx, noticeably, has not arrived either, which means he’s had mission complications, life complications — lack of funds, lack of vehicle, is lost, etc — or has died a subsequent death by whoever’s hands, which is traumatising enough that prompto figures spending time with noctis would be able to make him feel better.

he’ll be up in about two hours anyway, so the headstart isn’t something he really minds.

 

* * *

 

it’s another two days until nyx returns. his trip, in full, had turned out to be nine days long. in theory, this isn’t too long but, in _practice_ , prompto feels like he’s dying, like he's being deprived of food or water or oxygen from something that needs it to live. caught up in the thought, he barely realises that his life has become some cliche love story from the adults' section on the local worn down library.

he arrives in the early hours of the morning, with dawn. pelna is by his side, using nyx’s arm as support; he had been their reason for the delay, but prompto doesn’t blame him. if anything, he just thankful he’s okay; pelna is a good listener, nyx says, but he’s also loud when he needs to be. he’s always kind even to those who may not deserve it.

half the team heads to the hospital and the remainder of the team goes to see the captain to give the mission debrief. after, a few ‘glaives go back to wherever they’re staying, choosing to get some rest, but most decide to go drinking.

pelna extends to invite to the hero, but he declines. there is someone else he needs to see.

leaving with a few bandages, he heads to prompto’s accommodations. he knows him well enough to know that he wouldn’t stay at nyx’s apartment; he is awfully in need of attention and, when it’s not there, it hurts to be reminded of it.

with force, because he thinks prompto may be sleeping, he raps on the wooden door, wincing as it touches his bruised knuckles.

the door swings open. prompto looks up at him, face holding no recognition before it clicks. as nyx observes him, he can tell that prompto is much worse for wear; blonde hair is pressed down on his forehead, unstyled and messy, as if he had just woken up. the bags under his eyes have grown, and his eyes have dimmed, becoming more of a dull blue than their usual shining colour. when he registers that nyx stands in front of him, he says, with too much emotion for five in the morning, “you're back.”

arms are forced around nyx’s middle, making him stumble slightly. he wraps his arm around prompto, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his shoulder.

“of course i am.” nyx replies, a little cocky but more careful. his late arrival had shaken prompto, forcing him to worry more than he already was. “you think anything could keep me away, sweetheart?”

“you were gone,” prompto says. nyx’s shirt starts to feel a little wet, so he starts gently manoeuvring them inside, kicking the door closed behind him, he's not sure whether prompto even registers it.

“i didn’t want to.” nyx argues, though it’s not much of a fight. he understands that prompto isn’t mad at him, so he lets him sniffle into his shirt. he knows it wasn’t his fault; he knows he was doing his job, but he can’t help but feel terrible for the boy in his arms. perhaps he’d underestimated the amount on feelings between them.

“i’m sorry.” is all he can say. “the ‘glaives that went have the rest of the day off, to recuperate. you want to call cor?”

prompto nods.

“would you like to sleep?”

prompto shakes his head.

“what do you want to do?”

“i want to lie there with you.”

nyx, the hopeless romantic, is startled. he blinks, slow and unsure. “pardon?”

“i haven't slept well, nyx, in two fucking weeks.” prompto replies. “i missed you too fucking much. you’re a fool if you think i’m ever gonna fucking let you go again.”

“okay, prom.” he says, reassuring. “okay.”

they work their way over to the bed, but they lie in each others’ arms rather than get under the cover. prompto’s eyes are closed, but his hand is tightly wrapped around nyx’s shirt and his other arm is resting near his neck; the position looks uncomfortable and is uncomfortable, and neither complain.

however, this gives nyx perfect opportunity to look at prompto’s hands. split knuckles that glow bright red, and pink scratches that stretch for what seems like miles, some bad enough to have fully scabbed, brown and red and orange; most look like they have been picked at, much to nyx’s dismay. there’s a bright bruise too, blue and blossoming, on the inner of his wrist. he regards this carefully.

nyx pries the hand on his shirt open and links his fingers through it.

“what happened here?”

prompto is confused for a moment before he looks glances up and sees him looking at his hands. “oh.” he replies. he sounds sad, maybe a little disappointed. “practice. knife practise.”

“aren’t you being trained with guns?”

“they recommended that i try with daggers. i sucked a little less with them during the trials.”

“was this official, or during your nighttime schedule?”

“what do you think.” it's not a question. “sorry. that i’ve been snappy, i mean.” prompto concedes after a few moments of silence.

“proves that you missed me, right?”

“as if there was any doubt about that.”

there’s silence between them, where they just breathe. they look like it's the first they've taken in a while.

“i missed you too, you know.”

“i _do_ know.” prompto says. he’s happier than he was earlier. lighter. “just… don't leave again. not for a while.”

“of course, honey. you’ve got me stuck here now.”

prompto groans at the pun, and nyx laughs; the sun's still high up in the sky but they’re together again, content and uncaring. if they have their ups and downs, they know it’ll be okay. it’s always okay. there's a press of lips to prompto’s forehead. the hand in nyx’s grasps it a little bit tighter.

fuck, they’re not okay — not now and not then — but they've got each other as their rock, and maybe that's all they really need to get them through.

**Author's Note:**

> pinterest: [ignis](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/hokseok/ignis-stupeo-scientia-ffxv/) | [prompto](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/hokseok/prompto-argentum-ffxv/)
> 
> youtube (music playlists): [ffxv](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_rSVvI_mwOzblAt0IjaLoTNJNZ07ZIZu)


End file.
